We Met the Team
by Zaku Pony
Summary: The mercenaries of the RED team are hired as bodyguards to the Elements of Harmony. Hats will be traded, shots will be fired, and Jarate thrown. As our favorite psychopaths will find out, guarding a group of VIPs is a lot different than a briefcase.
1. Introduction

I wanta' tell you a story.

This story is gonna' start with a lot of the details skipped. A lot of things you all know already. It's why you're even bothering to read this in the first place. The things that I'm gonna' write (and you're gonna' read) probably won't make much sense to a lotta' people, but then again, you're not like a lotta' of people if you're still reading this. This isn't some story that any sane person would believe. This isn't a story I expect everyone to understand, but I gotta' to write it anyway.

Someone has to write it. It deserves to be written. That's just how I feel it is.

Anyway, who am I?

I'm_ the_ fastest and smartest runner Redmond Mann ever had the pleasure of paying from that stupidly fat fortune he inherited from his father. But you know that already, don't you? You know who the tomato soup drinkin' war-freak is. You know who our...Pyro...is. You know who our drunk one-eyed degenerate is. You know who the big fat bald guy with the thick Russian accent is. You know who our nerdy egg-headed toy maker is. You know who the needle addicted hippocratic hypocrite is. You know who our grumbling, mumbling, grumpy kangaroo fucker is. You know who the double-dealin', backstabbin' scumbag in the balaclava is.

...Okay, so they've got their problems. Their "quirks." But what if I told you they're not all that bad?

Well, depending on what color you're wearin' anyway.

I could go on all day about them - and maybe I will later - but for now they're just a waste of time.

You've met the team.

The way I figure, since I've got the most time to laze around and do jack shit (my brothers always said, never put off a beatin' for tomorrow that you can dish out today!), it means that I get to embellish everything for history.

If this here masterpiece ever gets published into a novel or something, let me just say: "Hi Ma'!"

Personally, I blame the weather in Equestria. In Teufort and all of the places in the middle of nowhere we would defend from the BLU team, the weather was always harsh. From the Badlands to Badwater Basin, the sun had baked the landscape into a dry and arid wasteland. Whenever we went to the Sawmill or Mannworks, the weather was always humid and cloudy in between torrential rainstorms. There was no love at Coldfront and Viaduct either, with persistant blizzards that were sometimes strong enough to stop both RED and BLU from even leaving their bases.

The only place I can think of that was ever pleasant was 2Fort, minus the raw volume of high explosives that passed from one battlements to the other. And bullets. And arrows. And lasers.

And that was on a good day.

Now, let me put the breaks on my thoughts so far here.

I'm going to stop and break character for a minute. Because I need to be frank with you, yeah you, the reader.

The reason why I became a mercenary was because of how [i]bad ass[/i] it sounded. Being the youngest out of eight never gave me a second to let down appearances. I didn't want to let my mom down. I don't know what ever happened to my father, or whether he ever existed in the first place, but all my life I never wanted to let her down. I wanted to make her proud. All of my older brothers were tough guys too, and when we roamed our turf in Boston, well, I don't think I could stomach the idea of letting them down. They were more than just my family. When I earned their respect, it meant the world to me. And I would do just about anything to keep it.

But to do anything, a guy needs money, and that was something no one in my family ever found a way to earn. I needed to get a job, and one that would somehow payout while allowing me to keep my pride. I wanted to do something so incredibly awesome, that no one could make fun of me for it no matter what I choose to do afterward.

Listening to Rainbow "Chicken Wings" go on about her idols, the Wonderbolts, kind of reminds me about how I used to be. Like how I used to idolize baseball players, before I got into the fulltime business of being a mercenary.

I get the feeling a lotta' things around Equestria are reminding the guys of how things used to be. Before RED, before BLU, and before killer robots. Thats why I'm writing this.

I'm not sure if I like being here.

The sun in Equestria is never too hot, and the nights are never too cold. The weather is planned out ahead of time and never changes schedule. The food tastes fresh, and the water is clean. There is no pollution even in the larger cities. Crime is almost non-existant. The poor and needy are taken care of. The main government is responsive and caring about its citizens. And all of its citizens in return are responsive and caring to each other.

There's something about all of it that gives me the chills.

It's not that being here is making me question myself. No, really, I mean it. I know you're all like, "But Scout? Aren't you aren't you an intelligence capturing, cart pushing, point capturing _bad ass_ in every way possible?"

To which I'd say, "Yeah, I totally am. Even on sundays." But that's not what I'm gettin' at.

I had plenty of time to doubt myself when I first joined RED, and got shipped in to Dustbowl with the rejects and lowest ranking mercenaries under Redmond's company. Living in run down facilities, stealing ammunition off of BLU corpses and raiding camps for supplies. Going from battle to battle, dodging bullets, rockets, grenades, and even crazier things in between. I mean, hell, I think I've beaten some BLUs to death with a frypan when my bat broke.

There were plenty of times when I questioned what part of my stupid twenty year old brain thought being a mercenary was a good idea. A cool idea. Something that would work, and not be a _suicidal dead end_ like it was for so many other people who had joined RED.

That's not the problem. It's me, but, it's not me. I just don't think we should be here.

But since we all came back after quitting, maybe that means that we don't belong anywhere.

I think last thing we should be doing is hanging around some place that'll inspire others to become like us.

Well, I think "Chicken Wings" is waking up above me. I don't know how she can casually sleep on branches of apple trees like some giant bird, but I've probably found more awkward places to sleep in the past. (The basement of our base at Fastlane was probably the worst.) The last thing I'm gonna' let her do is see me writin' this thing, as if there aren't a million things already she's always buggin' me about. If she thinks I'm keeping a diary or something, I'll never hear the end of it.

Maybe I'm being more serious than I should be about this. But if I were to get all philosophical and shit for once, I would still say we don't belong here.

Equestria is a place where dreams don't die to reality. We're only gonna' attract more trouble than we'll stop.

* * *

(Originally posted at fimfiction: story/114327/1/we-met-the-team/introduction)


	2. Chapter 1: Find a Server

For Saxton Hale, Austrailian CEO of Mann Co., the early morning breakfast steak was the most important steak of the day. Plummeting downward toward the earth at speeds close to terminal velocity, the Australian super man could already taste his breakfast waiting for him. There was nothing quite like a meal consumed after a death-defying fall through the air, broken only through smashing right through the skylights of your own office, and landing right into your own executive office chair.

In other words, a normal Monday morning for Saxton Hale.

**SMASH!**

Before the shards of glass from his broken skylight could even bounce off of the floor, Hale had the phone on his desk in his hand with his breakfast steak in the other. He then pressed the intercom button **dramatically**, taking a bite out of his breakfast as well.

"Reddy! Bidwell! Meet me outside of my office! We have a business proposition to discuss!"

Hale pressed the intercom button again, shutting it off. He then slammed his hand down on his desk with a **mighty**thump, propelling himself over and toward the double doors that lead out of his office. Walking out of his office with **brave** steps, both his butlers who doubled Mann Co's sales managers were at his sides.

"You called for us, sir?" Bidwell asked, keeping a brisk pace with the Mann who waited for no one.

"Yes!" Hale shouted, reaching into his pants pockets with his free hand. He whipped out a pristine white letter with a red lace trim, now soaked in sweat from being so close to Hale during his morning exercises. "Do you see what this is!"

"A letter, sir?" Reddy questioned, keeping pace with Bidwell on Hale's other side.

"Not just any letter, boys." Hale flashed a mighty smile. "A letter from a beautiful goddess in another dimension!"

Across from each other, Bidwell and Reddy exchanged glances. Having worked for Saxton Hale for several years, they both knew that their boss was anything but a liar. Hale himself was the closest living thing to a super-human; a man with such power, charisma, and fortitude that he could make the most masculine legends pale in comparison. Between their boss, two companies owning everything in the world, a great global conspiracy to hoard a radical transformative element called australium, dangerous weapons sales to all manners of questionable individuals, and illegals activities between action-packed adventures beyond the wildest of novel tales, there was nothing in the universe they could imagine that Saxton Hale didn't, or could not, have a hand in.

But to think that their boss had relations with gods in other worlds?

"I'm sorry sir, but I don't think I heard that right." Reddy said, puzzled. "A what?"

"You heard me right, boys." Both Bidwell and Reddy noticed that their employer was smiling from ear to ear. Something only seen after a new weapon had been developed and passed the "Mann Grade" inspection for being to both incredibly dangerous to the user and foe alike. Or after a successful week long fight against waves of angry hippies. Or after defeating a wave of rouge mercenary robots attacking a Mann Co. facility with his bare hands.

Even more so if it involved all three.

"This is a letter from a goddess in another dimension who rules over a nation of intelligent pastel colored ponies. It was magically delivered to my pants right before I hit terminal velocity this morning."

Bidwell and Reddy exchanged glances again.

"Why, I haven't heard from Celestia in over a thousand years!" Hale let out a jovial chuckle. "Their time I mean, not ours. Time flows differently, you understand. It's complicated stuff, even for me! But I wonder what she's writing to me about..."

Making a **courageous** entry into his second office (not riddled with broken glass), Hale vaulted over his own desk again and took the last bite out of his breakfast steak. Chewing it down gruffly, he reached out and grabbed the handkerchief Reddy held out to him to wipe his hands and face with. After that was done, he opened the top drawer to his desk and gingerly slid the pristine white envelope into it.

"So boys," Hale leaned back in his massive chair, stretching his arms behind his head. "Before I look into this adorable pony business, remind me what was on the schedule for today?"

"Just a couple of things, sir." Bidwell pulled out a small datebook from his pocket, and began to thumb through it. "You have an appointment to wrestle that great white shark on his own home turf. We've had to reschedule him twice now, so I don't think you want put him off again."

"No, of course not." Hale agreed as he stroked his mustache. "I refuse to be seen as a coward against someone who can't survive without water suspending his own weight. That just won't do. What else?"

"There's the matter of cleaning up the last few strongholds of Gray Mann, sir. The BLU team has been working on them for the last year, but there are a few factories that are being persistent..."

"Of course, of course," Hale grumbled. "Those damned heaps of scrap just won't die, will they? It must be a lot easier just to build another mercenary than bring one back to life. I don't suppose if Gray goes bankrupt, that he'll run out of money to fuel those robots with?"

"We're not sure, sir." Reddy stepped forward, holding his own book with a pen ready. "Actually, we think that Gray Mann might be getting funding from companies and governments that want to become independent after Redmond and Blutarch died."

"Well that won't do either," Hale turned around in his office seat, and looked toward a large globe on his desk. The land, ocean, and everything in between on the sphere was colored in a distinct red or blue with nothing left unclaimed. "But that's a job for Helen. It's not our concern to look into who is doing what behind closed doors, got it? Mann Co. will keep supplying Team Fortress Industries with what we make best; dangerous tools with sharp edges that can also burst into flames."

"Yes sir," both Bidwell and Reddy nodded, writing it down in their books. "Sharp edges and flammability. Right sir."

"Alright... Anything else I should know of?"

Both Bidwell and Reddy shook their heads.

"No? Alright then. I'll call you both back in here later. For now, I'd like to be alone to think."

For the third time in the same morning, Bidwell and Reddy exchanged glances. Alone to think? If the words hadn't come from Hale's own mouth, they would have never believed it. It wasn't that Saxton Hale was too much of a muscular meat-head to think, but taking the time to reflect as if he were about to ponder philosophical concepts was not something Hale ever did after morning exercises. In fact, if confronted by too much information early in the day, their boss was more likely to jump out of the window of his office to escape being weighed down by the responsibilities of his own business.

Still, they respectfully bowed to their employer before leaving his office and closing the door behind them.

Hearing and seeing them leave, all restraints Hale had put on in front of his subordinates was thrown to the wind. Like a man possessed, he tore open the drawer containing the letter, pulling it right out of its sockets and tearing the handle clear off. Not caring in the slightest and with his hands trembling, he daintily picked it up and brought it under his nose to smell.

Vanilla.

The same smell of vanilla from the week he had proven his manhood to the only creature in the universe that mattered.

And Mann sweat. The envelope smelt of that too.

With a finesses gentle enough to tickle an infant, Hale peeled off the wax seal and untied the trim around the latter with one hand. Being sure not to damage anything, with the same gentle caution he unfolded the letter and began to read with baited anticipation.

"To my Beloved... Hmmm... I see," his eyes went from one side of the letter to the other, scanning the parchment in depth. His expression changed back and forth from different extremes as he continued to read. "Yes, yes... YES! Ah, hah! What!? NO! ...Yes. Mmmm, hmmm."

Calmly, Hale placed the letter down on his desk to be framed later.

"Bidwell! Reddy! Get in here!"

No less than a second later, the double doors to his office burst open and his two butlers walked back in. "What is it, sir? Is everything alright? What does she want?" Reddy dared to ask first, their curiosity was written all over their faces.

"Bidwell! I want you to get in contact with Helen right away!" Hale commanded, **boldly** standing up and vaulting back over his desk. He then began to pace back and forth in his office, with one muscular arm balled into a fist behind his back and the other with his pointer finger stabbing into the air in declaration. "I don't know what she's doing and I don't care! She needs to know about this!"

He then turned to his other assistant, with a grim determination on his face.

"Reddy, I want you to go down and get the video recorder. I'm not going to put off wrestling that great white shark on his own terms, but I want to send a video to our best RED mercenaries at the same time. I have a job for them, that only they can do!"

"The mercenaries?" Reddy shook his head. "But sir, the RED team disbanded after the defeat of Gray Mann. We don't know where any of them are."

"What?" Hale stopped, and then went back to pacing. "No, that's nonsense. Of course we know that they're doing, or at least Helen probably does. You don't train nine men to be perfect killers with different talents and then lose track of them!"

"Now get on it, and quickly! I mean it!" he snapped, watching his assistants run off with a spring in their step. "I've got to think of a way to reschedule the official company rocket jumper competition. Normally I'd never think of putting off an event everyone loves, but this is more important than that!"

* * *

The sun burned brightly down on the royal Canterlot gardens; another perfect afternoon over the capital of the largest and wealthiest nation in the world. It was no coincidence of course, since the weather had been planned out ahead of time as a special request by the royal sisters, and mixed perfectly by Canterlot's elite Pegasus weather team. In the morning the streets and homes of Canterlot had been cleaned and polished by an army of civil servants, with no explanation given to any of the residents. Before noon, every part of the royal gardens had been maintained to perfection, with the only explanation given was that Princess Celestia would be entertaining a very important guest in the afternoon.

_Riiiiiing... Riiiiiing... Riiiiiing... Riiiiiing..._

On the table between them, an ivory white telephone connected to a magic line continued to ring gently. Princess Celestia's guest placed her cup of tea down on its saucer gently with a light clink. She eyed the phone with an amused look, and looked back at her secretary who was dressed in a similar fashion to herself. Behind the Administrator, Ms. Pauling unpacked a large tape recorder in suitcase, with a line running directly to the same cord as the phone on the table.

"...How punctual. That should be from Hale now. Are you ready Miss Pauling?"

"Yes ma'am. The line is connected, and it will record everything in your conversation."

Across from her, Princess Celestia dropped a light spoonful of sugar into her own tea, before stirring it with her magic.

"Just as you predicted. You're still on top of everything after all these years, Helen."

_Riiiiiing... Riiiiiing... Riiiiiing... Riiiiiing..._

"Don't patronize me, Celestia." Her tone was cold, but not bitter. "We still haven't talked about my payment in return for my mercenaries."

"Yes, we should get to that." Celestia agreed. "But first..." She motioned to the phone that continued to ring between them.

The Administrator furrowed her brows, before letting out a sigh of admittance. She promptly snuffed her cigarette out into the ash tray between them, with a bitter and unfeminine grunt.

"I suppose you're right. It's rude to keep a barking dog waiting. Shall we begin, Miss Pauling?"

"Yes ma'am. Whenever you're ready."

As the Administrator began to talk, Celestia tuned her out and began to focus on some of the files that lay between them. As she had expected, Helen had come with everything organized perfectly in response to her offer. In the time that had passed, Saxton Hale had inherited the family fortune from his father Bilious Hale, which included an organization called Mann Co. Through previous connections to Zepheniah Mann, Mann Co. had become the primary sponsor of an inheritance war through their subsidiary of Team Fortress Industries. Both descendants of Zepheniah, Redmond Mann and Blutarch Mann, had amassed fortunes and power before deciding to fight each other for the opposing siblings inheritance of Zepheniah Mann's original fortune. As strange as it was to imagine, peace and stability in most of the world had been achieved by using both brother's violent quarrel as a front to channel the rest of the world's disputes.

Through the careful manipulation of business decisions by Team Fortress Industries, Redmond and Blutarch had spend their entire lives focusing on nothing but reclaiming a dream about the past that no longer existed. Celestia had read the transcripts of routine meetings with the Mann brothers, and for some reason both Redmond and Blutarch had an obsession with gravel. But that had ended with an unexpected return of Gray Mann, the long lost brother to both Redmond and Blutarch who had been kidnapped at birth. Gray Mann had also come with an army of robots (which ran on money), with the goal of stealing Mann Co's property which held a very dangerous secret from the rest of the world.

According to Helen's paperwork, if it were to be trusted, both the mercenary teams under Redmond and Blutarch had been reorganized by Mann Co. to attack Gray Mann's facilities while defending Mann Co. ones. For the last year a war had been waged over two hundred different Mann Co. facility sites. Only recently Gray Mann had begun to run out of money in his fortune to fuel his robots with, and had actually resorted to trying to sell hats similar to the very ones Mann Co. had made their fortune on. Fortunately or unfortunately, the RED team in particular had been very good at their job, and Mann Co. was seeking new fields of employment for them now that Gray Mann had run out of robots to attack Mann Co. with.

The timing of Princess Celestia's request couldn't have been better.

So much so, that Celestia found herself wondering if there were spies in her own country.

"Are you sure these men are...fit to protect my little ponies?"

Still on the phone, Helen motioned for her assistant behind her to step forward. Noting the expression on her boss's face, Miss Pauling adjusted her glasses and pulled up a seat next to the Administrator at their table.

"If by 'protect' you mean utterly destroy anything and everything that looks at them funny," Miss Pauling smiled, "Than yes, your majesty. Absolutely. Without a doubt."

"Miss Pauling, is it?" Celestia questioned. "Your trust in them is assuring, but you should know that I won't accept unrestrained violence in my kingdom."

"Oh, of course your majesty," Miss Pauling began to sort through the files between them. Picking up one file from the rest, she produced three pictures with people Celestia recognized as the BLU team's Scout, Soldier, and Spy. "None of our mercenaries are immune from the law of the lands they operate in. Although we sometimes need to pull some strings, part of our contract states that our mercenaries under your employment can still be punished for breaking local laws."

"I see. But you understand how ambiguous 'pulling strings' sounds. As the buyer, I can't help but worry a little when you freely admit that you will consider...ways...around the laws of my nation."

"I apologize for my poor word choice, your majesty. What I meant to say, is that sometimes things happen by accident and people tend to think that they're solving a problem rather than creating more." Miss Pauling reached out and took a spare tea cup from the porcelain china on the table, and went to pour herself her own cup.

"I doubt that the issue will ever come up while our mercenaries are here. Honestly, your majesty."

"I would certainly hope so. Do you have a physical copy of the contract for me to go over?"

"Yes, right here, somewhere. Let me just..." Miss Pauling pulled out another folder, and thumbed through its contents. "I have it all right here. A copy for both you and your sister, if she chooses to join us later tonight."

Celestia accepted the single slip of paper, noting the plain machine typed print and stamped logos on both the bottom and top of the paper. It was so very different from the lace trimmed and embroidered artisan crafted contracts that were passed between courts in different kingdoms in her world. The paper Miss Pauling was handing her was so plain that it betrayed the importance of what was imprinted onto it, and she couldn't help but muse how many life or death situations were printed in such a cold and impersonal fashion daily.

Miss Pauling adjusted her glasses, and began to read aloud for Celestia to follow.

"Mann Co and Team Fortress Industries will lend you nine of our strongest warriors for a duration of one year, divided in any way you request. While in Equestria, the members of Reliable Excavation and Demolition will ensure the safety and well-being of the six users of the Elements of Harmony. The Element holders will be free to specify more individuals they want protected, so long as they fall underneath the categories of friends and family. The Diarchy of Equestria will provide our mercenaries with basic services, employment, and residence of satisfactory quality close to their targets. The Diarchy of Equestria will also allow Team Fortress Industries to send supplies across dimensions when requested by our mercenaries."

Miss Pauling flipped the first page of the contract around to its back, as did Celestia with her own copy.

"While in Equestria, all mercenaries hired out will be required to stay within the legal boundaries of laws set and enforced by the Diarchy of Equestria. Once the contracted period of one year (Equestrian time) has passed, all mercenaries working for Reliable Excavation and Demolition will be returned to their home dimension, sent to the past to compensate for the time differential between our two worlds. If the Diarchy of Equestria is interested in continued use of their services after this contract expires, said contract will be open for renewal and renegotiation under possible new terms. Mann Co. and Team Fortress Industries reserves the right to refuse renewal of this contract for any circumstance we deem fit."

"And last but not least..." Miss Pauling continued reading through a few lines and reached the bottom of the page. Celestia noticed a small bit of puzzlement in her face, and then noticed what the last clause of the contract read.

"After the contracted period of one year has passed, if all nine mercenaries have performed work satisfactory to the conditions listed above, payment will be made to Team Fortress Industries in the form of the recipe Star Swirl the Bearded followed to create synthetic australium."

* * *

(Originally posted at fimfiction: story/114327/2/we-met-the-team/chapter-1-find-a-se rver)


	3. Chapter 2: Choose a Game Mode

Princess Celestia could only stare in shock, reading the last line of her contract over again. Star Swirl the Bearded? Synthetic australium? A rush of memories threatened to break loose like a flooded dam inside of her mind, but she quickly suppressed them, mindful of her present company.

"Helen," Celestia put her hoof back down on the table, sliding her copy of the contract back to Miss Pauling in a deliberately slow manner. "You have some nerve to ask me for this. After all these years, you still-"

"What?" The Administrator looked between the phone in her hand and Celestia. She then turned to Miss Pauling, who pointed to the ending paragraph of the contract with her finger. "Ah. Still carrying emotional baggage, I see. Hale, hold on a second."

She put her hand over the transmitter. "Celestia, don't tell me you're still bitter at Star Swirl. I know it was selfish of him to make you and your sister immortal without your consent, and then die before he could join you. But, really..."

"Immortality isn't a joke!" Celestia nearly screamed, but kept her voice to the level of a harsh whisper. "You might think there are a million reasons why you would want it, but the _one_ reason why you don't is stronger than all of them!"

Helen gave her a questioning look from across the table. "I think you misunderstand me. What-" She cut herself off, as she could hear Hale asking something and continuing to talk without her. "Look, could your emotional outburst wait? I still have your old one night _fling_ on the phone here. I don't know what you wrote to him, but its going to take some real smooth talking to convince him not to break dimensional walls to come and see you."

Celestia found herself blushing uncomfortably at Helen's words, and fumed silently into her cup of tea. Despite the sugar she had put into it earlier, it now tasted considerably more bitter then what she was used to. Across the table, Miss Pauling fidgeted uncomfortably, now finding herself stuck between the two scariest females in the known human universe.

"Um... Excuse me," Miss Pauling said, fidgeting some more in her seat. "This tea is made without tea bags, correct?"

Celestia continued to glare at Helen who was still on the phone and couldn't be bothered to care.

"Yes, it is Miss Pauling."

"Is it Williamson and Magor? Or maybe Fortnum and Mason?" Miss Pauling took a sip of her own tea to test her guess. She smiled apologetically, seeing a look of annoyance still on Celestia's face.

"I'm sorry, it reminds me of a tea from my world. I haven't had tea that wasn't made from tea bags in a very long time."

"You're right, actually." Celestia raised an eyebrow, a little amused. "It's Wiliamson and Magor black tea. I had it imported for our meeting, since it is very important that my guests enjoy themselves while in my care."

"It may not seem like much, but I want to say thank you." Miss Pauling spoke quietly into her cup. "For someone like me who works almost every day of the year, this is a very nice treat. I don't remember the last time I actually had a chance to brew tea from scratch."

"Well..." Celestia let out a sigh, feeling herself calming down a little bit. "You're welcome, then."

Around her, the birds in the garden continued to sing and go about their daily rituals, having stopped only momentarily due to her outburst. Above them she could make out tiny specks in the sky moving clouds about, more than likely members of the Canterlot weather team changing out dry clouds for moister ones to keep the temperature during the height of the day down. Even though the gardens were mostly surrounded by parts of the royal castle, she could still make out the echos of activity coming from the daily hustle and bustle of Canterlot. Even if her discussion wasn't going as smoothly as she had hoped, at least it seemed that everywhere else was-

"Your majesty, may I say something...personal?"

Celestia stopped listening to the world around her, and looked at Miss Pauling. Next to her, Helen continued to jabber back and forth with Hale over the phone, partially oblivious to their conversation. Having finished her cup of tea, Miss Pauling reached out to pour herself another cup as she spoke.

"Speaking personally, I feel that the right to rule is something you earn, your majesty. It is not something you are born with. In my world, a large part of violence in human history comes from people claiming to be born with the right to rule when they have no talent for it."

After pouring herself a second cup, she reached up and removed her glasses from her face and placed them on the table.

"I don't know what happened, but if this Star Swirl did what he did because he predicted your potential... Well, looking at where both of you and your sister are now, I would say that he was right."

"That this subject a very taboo one, Miss Pauling." Celestia warned sternly, instantly regretting how she imagined herself sounding. "Since we are not very personal friends, please do not speak to me so casually about it."

"Yes, I'm sorry your majesty," Miss Pauling apologized immediately. "But I feel the need to comment on just how beautiful Equestria is."

"Beautiful...you say?"

"Yes. Beautiful. Your citizens are beautiful. The land is beautiful. The weather is beautiful. I could go on for hours, probably."

She didn't want to admit it, but the diminutive and unassuming lackey to one of the sharpest minds she had ever known was beginning to perk her interest. All this time her attention had been focused on playing a strong hand toward Helen, but it was becoming clear that the company Helen kept close was there for a reason. But over a thousand years of participating in your own political court helped sharpen your mind to anticipate anything, and so Celestia decided to calmly play along.

"And what do you mean by beautiful?" She asked, straight forward and simply. "What do you know about the history of my country?"

"I only know what I've read. That a little over a thousand years ago, this world was separated into three tribes with constant hostilities to each other. I know that they preyed on each other, manipulated each other, fought each other and played the role of the victim from each others actions. All the while other creatures and monsters in this world would prey on them as well."

Miss Pauling took a minute to spoon some sugar into her own tea, and Celestia remained silent to allow her to continue.

"You and your sister performed nothing short of a miracle, by convincing the ponies of all three tribes to look toward something greater then the present. To look past immediate gains. You gave them the dream of the future. Or rather, you gave them a method to reach tomorrow from today. Not just for themselves, but for their friends, family, and foals as well."

Celestia remained silent, as did Miss Pauling.

Celestia broke the silence first. "What if I gave it to you? What do you plan on doing with it?"

"I can only speak from an assuming standpoint." Miss Pauling glanced at her boss, who had lit another cigarette and was sucking it down in between groans at whatever Hale was saying on his end of the phone. "But we would use it to continue to politically stabilize our world."

"I have a hard time believing that a radical mutagenic transformative element can be used to _stabilize_ anything, Miss Pauling."

"People are different from ponies, your majesty. We don't have magic. We don't have monsters. After millions of years we have climbed to the top of the food chain, and all we have to fear and distrust are ourselves. Because of that, people have become too comfortable with the prospects of natural evils running around in the world. There needs to be a controlling force, to prevent humanity from cannibalizing itself."

"That sounds very much like an explanation to justify your own existence on top of your peers. Are you saying that Team Fortress Industries acts as the guardians of humanity's future by acting as its enablers in the present?"

"As I said your majesty, humans are violent by nature. I cannot speak for the nature of ponies, but I must ask that you believe me when I say that humans are not the same. You must understand how the death of Redmond and Blutarch was unexpected and very problematic for us. Through those two, Team Fortress Industries was capable of manipulating and controlling each half of our world. Through their endless fight against each other, we were able to give humanity a placebo of violence and destruction to pacify their desires. But because both brothers are dead at the hands of another brother with no interest in working with us, their conglomerates have collapsed and begun to run amok."

Miss Pauling stopped, both to let herself take a breath and to allow Celestia to process all of what she had said.

It wasn't as if she was lying, as far as she knew. Really, it wasn't. She had gambled that if her boss's dubious pragmatism and frankness weren't appealing, than perhaps a little small talk to smooth things over would be better.

The analogy the Administrator had used a year ago in regards to the Poopy Joe incident still ran true: unfed dogs had no reason to be loyal to their master. The rapid response of the American government in the form of a congressional inquiry into Mann Co.'s activities were proof enough that everyone was out for themselves. At the smell of weakness, the strongest government in the world that only existed from Mann Co.'s support had tried to bite the hand responsible for raising and nurturing it.

It was a stark lesson to be learned for Miss Pauling, who never doubted that her boss had seen it coming.

The one hundred pounds of australium that Helen's ancestor had stolen from _Terra Australis_ had gone far, but not nearly far enough. And it wasn't as if Team Fortress Industries could just return some day and ask for more.

The recipe for synthetic australium from Equestria would work as a leverage of power against those who wished to strike out on their own out from under Team Fortress Industry's control. A new organization would have to be created, capable of reigning in the old assets of Builders League United and Reliable Excavation and Demolition under one group.

Princess Celestia's talking interrupted Miss Pauling thoughts.

"To me, it looks as if you want me to help you secure power for yourself. Do you really think I'll do such a thing?" She asked rhetorically, with a little bite behind her words. "Assuming I believed every word you've said, don't you think it's rather proper for a non-human to make a decision affecting so many innocent lives unrelated to her?"

"I would ask the same question, your majesty, when you choose to involve yourself with economic trade with other races in this world."

Celestia thought on her words for a moment, before responding. "How so? Do tell, Miss Pauling."

"Speaking frankly your majesty," Miss Pauling felt a gentle breeze blow between them, enough to send a gentle chill through everyone present. "We all know who really controls this world. We've done our research before came here on your invitation."

Allowing the accusation to slip past, Celestia closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. "I'm not sure of what you mean. Could you explain?"

"What did founding of Equestria establish one thousand years ago?" Miss Pauling took a sip of her tea, and poured a little more for herself. "The turning of the roles of prey and predator in this world. As it stands now, life on this planet is dependent on Equestria for energy production, food production, and economic activity itself. The fact is, every other kingdom in this world is incapable of feeding their own subjects without trade from Equestria. Ponies on the other hand, would have no trouble supporting themselves if they were to sever ties with every non-pony race on this planet."

A long moment passed, and Miss Pauling looked around out into the royal gardens. The wind blew again, with the plants in the garden rustling around them.

"If the Diarchy of Equestria were to suddenly strengthen its ties with other pony inhabited regions in this world, and boycott everything else, you would be able to create a dominant economic sphere that could exclude undesirables you saw unfit. That is to say, you would be able to create a greater Equestrian co-prosperity sphere of economic security that stretched the entire planet. If all of these nations entered your economic partnership and abandoned their other ties, the nations excluded would eventually wither away with their culture and history turning into nothingness."

Celestia was slightly taken aback, and looked back at Miss Pauling with wide eyes.

"Are you accusing me of being capable of such...such... Madness?"

"Madness?" Miss Pauling looked into her cup with a tinge of sadness. "Yes, I see what you mean. For any living creature to think that they could coordinate and organize something so massive by their own, it really would be madness."

Had she hit something sensitive with her word choice? No, probably not. Celestia had put on a mock air of authority, ironically, out of reaction from not being able to think of a calm answer to the unsubtle accusation of being a tyrant. She paused for a moment to collect her thoughts before deciding to probe deeper.

"Are you saying Miss Pauling, that it is Team Fortress Industry's intention to try and create something similar to my kingdom?"

"It is as I've said before, your majesty. Ponies are not violent in nature. Humans are another matter entirely. Humans are unpredictable. Violent. Chaotic. They need a structure to adhere to, or they risk going feral and destroying themselves in the long run."

Cold and impersonal. Her words were logical and orderly, but spoken in a way that made her seem uninvolved. Distanced. As if everything being said were about some world, far far away. Celestia almost wanted to point out, with some ferocity, that both Helen and Miss Pauling were just as human as the creatures they were describing as being monsters. And even if all humans were dangerous and destructive, what did it mean to hear that coming from humans who were self-proclaimed to be above their own nature?

"It is done. Celestia, are you listening?"

Celestia frowned visibly, but quickly tried to recompose herself from having her thoughts interrupted. Across from her Helen placed the receiver of the phone back on its base, hanging up on Hale as he was still speaking about something.

"Need I remind you that this meeting was arranged by you? We came on good faith that there was a business dealing to be had, where both of us could get what we wanted over a fair and equal trade."

Celestia scoffed loudly. "You've the nerve to call me giving you the means to conquer your world a fair trade? For a little extra security?"

"Extra? Don't sell me short, Celestia. The way I see things, we're both putting our faith in each other to secure our futures."

"..."

"You want them to live to see a ripe old age, correct? Or maybe you want to groom them to be your living weapons? Either way, it doesn't matter to me. What matters is that your Element holders are safe for you to do as you please with them. The same thing can be said for the synthetic australium recipe you are going to give me."

Helen took one last puff of her cigarette, before tossing it in with the others she had sucked the life out of.

"How about I give you a week to come up with an explanation for as to why a bunch of violent humans are going to become their new best friends? I'll be explaining to my mercenaries why becoming friends with a bunch of peace-loving ponies is in their best interest."

She gave Celestia a sweet smile.

"Please have your affairs in order. And who knows? Maybe I'll throw in a special treat to sweeten our deal."

* * *

"Hey, lard-fat. What's up?"

Heavy looked back over his own shoulder, spotting that Scout was looking over him and _not-minding-his-business-away-from-him_ like he preferred. The biggest member of the RED team rolled his eyes, knowing that denying the puniest little baby on their team the attention he wanted would only make it worse. Although knocking him out with a punch to the face was _also_ an option. A very _tempting_ option.

"I am shopping for beds." Heavy lifted the magazine in his hands up for Scout to see. "Is long overdue. Yes?"

"Wait, are you still sleepin' with Sasha?" Scout scratched his head, before throwing Heavy a look of skepticism. "You know 'dat's not normal, right big guy?"

"Da'." Heavy agreed. "I should have bought bed for Natasha as well. Was rude of Heavy not to."

"Huh? What about your other guns?"

"No. Huo-Long Heater sets cabin on fire, and Beast sleeps outside like dog. Tomislav is broken; Heavy must fix."

In hindsight, Scout really should have seen that coming. Rolling his eyes and blowing a raspberry, Scout got up and decided to run around elsewhere in Lumberyard to see what the rest of his team was up to. It was bound to be more interesting than watching mister fatty-fat-fat-fat look at beds for his _compensation_ of all things. Between talking to his guns and lunch, Heavy was one of the weirder members of the team in his own morbidly obese way.

"Yo! Pyro!" Scout walked out from the building he was in. "Don't start any fires, you hear me?"

Caught in the act of trying to set some of the stacked logs on fire with his lighter, the Pyro jumped in surprised and hid it behind his back. "Mrrph? Hurr hurr, phrr phrrr hurdur," Pyro said, giving an innocent shrug.

"Yeah, well, just don't do it, man." Scout warned. "Don't waste your time startin' small fires, when you could be, like, burning way more stuff elsewhere."

Pyro rubbed his chin at Scout's sage advice and nodded. "Hmmrrmmm... Mmrph mhrr."

One of the signature traits of Lumberyard was the fact that the facility was located at the end of a lumber rail line, just before a before a massive cliff. As a result, the area was full of large cargo pallets filled with tree logs and other things meant for processing elsewhere. A lot of the industrial facilities and run down building that the RED and BLU teams had fought each other across looked like they had once been fully functional sites. But with the constant battle between both sides, most of the buildings and areas in between had become run down without maintenance.

"Ugh, man." Scout looked around at the beautiful pine forest surrounding him. "You know, nature sucks. What's a guy gotta' do to get a decent cup of joe around here."

He kept looking around, before spying a small trail of smoke coming from one of the highest towers in the central offices of the Lumberyard. _Bingo_, Scout thought to himself. There were only two people who would stay shut in on such a beautiful (but boring) afternoon, and both were a good source of entertainment for him.

So without another word, Scout began to parkour up the sides of anything he could find to climb up to the Sniper's lookout.

How many times had he watched Sniper leave from a team meeting and just go right up to his perch? He had always assumed that he would be in good enough shape to make the same trek Sniper made every time he had to relocate. (Being limber enough to run circles around your enemies tended to keep you in good shape.) But after climbing up on a pile of logs, scaling up a set of rusty gutters nailed deep into a building wall, running across a roof and double-jumping to the other side of the same building, even Scout was almost out of breath.

Taking a second to catch is breath, Scout peered around and looked into the window Sniper used to shoot at BLU back in the past. Before he could even a word, he found himself staring down the barrel of a sub-machine gun, with Sniper on the other end of it.

A couple of seconds passed where neither mercenary moved, with Sniper still pointing his gun at Scout, and Scout just looking back at him.

"...Hey man."

The Sniper scowled back down at him, still holding his sub-machine gun.

"What the bloody 'ell do you think you're doin' here, Shirley?"

Scout cracked a grin. "I wanted to see where you go, man."

Sniper raised an eyebrow, not convinced. Scout paused, still waiting to see if Sniper would put his gun away.

"Soooo, you gonna' let me in? My arms are gettin' kinda tired here. I didn't take the stairs, I'm sure you noticed."

After another couple of seconds, Sniper lowered his gun and motioned for Scout to come inside. Not wanting to wait for another second teetering outside the highest point in Lumberyard, Scout squeezed himself through the broken frames of the window and into the Sniper's nest.

"Don't. Touch. Anything." Sniper warned in a tone that meant business. He walked over to his seat, and picked his cigarette up from where he had placed it. "...You want a beer?"

"What? Really?" Scout asked. Looking around, it dawned on him that he had never really seen where or what Sniper would do with the places where he hung around. The rest of the team agreed sometimes that some of the more nicer supplies raided from BLU camps would go to select members of the team. Since Sniper often volunteered to wait long hours watching for the enemy, more than once Scout had seen some crazy loot go his way. He watched Sniper go over to a corner in the room, and after prying up some wooden boards in the wall, drag out a small electric refrigerator plugged into a hidden socket in the wall.

"So, are you just here because you missed me sheila?" Sniper opened up the cooler and dug around, picking out a bottle of Red Shed beer. The brand specifically made for the RED team by Redmond Mann's company, to counter the Blu Streak beer brand made by Blutarch Mann for his own team.

"Yeah, somethin' like that." The Scout looked around one last time, catching the beer in one hand and finding a pile of hay to sit down on. "I was wonderin' if you knew what was goin' on?"

"Hmm, hmm, hmm. Monsieur Scout wants to be in on the reason for our little...soiree, yes?"

"Who the-" Scout looked around, knowing the answer to who the sudden mystery voice speaking was. "Oh, you gotta' be kidding me. Spy!" Scout stood up, looking around the empty loft. There was no with him, except for Sniper wasn't finding either of their antics to be very funny. "What the hell! You're here too!?"

In the far corner of the loft was a table with two seats and a chess board on it. Scout and Sniper both watched as the familiar sound of the Cloak and Dagger invisibility watch echoed into the loft. With his legs crossed, the Spy flashed the Scout a smile before waving, and looked down at the chess board. Examining each piece, the Spy reached into his pocket for his Spytron 3000 Disguise Kit which doubled as his cigarette case.

"But of course. But you're just in luck, the Sniper and I were discussing our team's new job before you came in."

Listening to his words, Scout took a few seconds to stop and think. He took a sip of his beer, before throwing himself down on a hay pile with a groan.

"So...I guess that story about bus loads of hot chicks comin' to see me was a load of bullshit, huh?"

Sniper and Spy said nothing, exchanging looks at each other.

* * *

(Originally posted at fimfiction: /story/114327/3/we-met-the-team/chapter-2-choose-a -game-mode)


End file.
